


long quiet moments

by enamuko



Series: FE Rarepair Week 2k19 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: Hubert cannot fathom how he has found himself, time and time again, in the royal gardens of Fhirdiad, enjoying a peaceful moment with Dedue of all people... And yet, he would hardly trade it for anything.





	long quiet moments

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fire Emblem Rarepair week! Prompt is "Leaves".

Hubert has never been the sort of person who has really taken the time to appreciate gardens. Despite his family’s wealth, his own estate has always been spartan, a house and place of business rather than a home, and his time in the Imperial Palace has always been spent in his study or at Her Majesty’s side.

This, though? He supposes he can appreciate this.

“I wouldn’t think that so many species of flower could grow so beautifully in Fhirdiad.”

He doesn’t mean to distract his companion from his next move, but Dedue looks up from the game board just as he seems like he’s finally come to a decision. (He’s always been a slow, deliberate player of this particular game, a trait which some might find irritating, but which Hubert can appreciate.)

“In fact, I was led to believe the city was as barren as the lands surrounding it.”

Dedue doesn’t respond at first, goes back to considering the game pieces laid out in front of them. Only once he’s made his move properly does he look away and around at the garden they are sitting in.

“This place was... A gift,” he says. “From His Majesty— Dimitri.”

The way he catches himself as though he has made a mistake in calling his liege by his proper title rather than his first name makes Hubert chuckle. Once, it might have been a cruel chuckle at the foolishness, but after so many formal visits between the Adrestian Empire and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, he is well aware that Dedue’s dedication is _equal_ to his own...

“From what I understand, it is magic that bolsters the soil,” he explains as Hubert takes his turn at the board. He supposes it’s only fair that Dedue gets to distract him just a bit in turn... “The school of sorcery uses a similar technique for their own gardens, or so I’ve been told.”

Hubert might consider such a thing tastelessly extravagant if it were anyone else. Dedue, though? He deserves it, precisely because— and Hubert can tell based on the way that he considers the gardens around him thoughtfully, with care— he will _truly_ appreciate it.

“Your liege is a generous man. Clearly he must value your services.”

He knows Dimitri values far more than that about Dedue. Hubert has trained himself from childhood to be utterly aware and observant.

Which is precisely why his words lilt in a teasing tone that makes Dedue consider him with a raised eyebrow.

When he had followed Lady Edelgard to Garreg Mach and the Officer’s Academy, who could have possibly imagined that one day he would be sitting in the (enchanted) gardens of the royal castle of Fhirdiad, enjoying a pleasantly nippy spring afternoon seated across from Dimitri’s vassal? Certainly not Hubert, and he bets not Dedue. But they have reached a point where he feels comfortable _teasing_ Dedue, and it earns him a smile and a small shake of the head both tempered with what he can only assume is fondness.

“_Your_ liege appreciates _your_ services just as much, I’m sure.”

“Mm. She has yet to build me an enchanted garden, however.”

Dedue turns and coughs into his hand to very poorly hide the fact that he’s starting to blush.

“Dimitri is... _Enthusiastic_ in showing his appreciation, I suppose.”

Hubert finally makes his move, placing Dedue into a precarious position. Dedue, of course, hardly reacts except to get a particular glimmer in his eye as he considers how he might be able to turn the tables.

Dedue had been unfamiliar with the game when Hubert had first brought it to their little ‘meetings’, but Hubert sits at 45 wins to Dedue’s 39, and he has been rapidly closing the gap.

“I wouldn’t care to be given one anyway,” he continues, and he’s sure that by now Dedue is aware of his more deliberate attempts at distraction, though this is always the way their games seem to go regardless. “I certainly wouldn’t be able to do with it what you’ve done.”

“Her Imperial Majesty recognizes you, though.” Dedue does not phrase it as a question, just as Hubert would not need to ask the same thing about Dimitri.

“Of course. I’m simply not one for gifts.” Particularly not such extravagant ones, but of course, he wouldn’t say that. At first glance you wouldn’t assume Dedue to be a man prone to being self-conscious, and for the most part Hubert would say that he is_n’t_, but he has always seemed the sort who has trouble accepting that he is worthy of recognition and appreciation.

Hubert is glad, then, that Dimitri is the sort of man who would shout it from the rooftops if he were able. And (though it might have once pained him to compliment him so openly, even in his own mind) despite his strong noble countenance, Hubert suspects that at least once he’s had to have been prevented from doing so quite forcefully.

He has always been one to prefer experiences to things. His family has wealth enough that he would want for nothing even if he had not been raised wanting for nothing from the start, wanting nothing more than a life of devotion and service that he took to with an aplomb that left even his insistent father astonished.

Of course, he doesn’t say such things aloud. Mostly because he thinks Dedue understands.

“Hubert?”

“Hm?” It takes him a moment to realize he’s become lost in thought, until he looks to the game board between them and realizes that not only has Dedue made his move, he’s managed to completely turn the game around. In fact—

“I believe that’s victory for me,” he says, in a rare moment of allowing himself to sound smug.

“I do believe you’re right,” Hubert responds, shock melting into fondness. “What do you say, one more round?”

“If you’re so eager to lose more of your headway.” Oh, the smug streak continues. Hubert chuckles, darkly.

“We’ll see about that...”

  


When Edelgard had first announced her intention to visit Fhirdiad, Hubert had been... _Reluctant_, to say the least. It did not matter that the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was their ally, or that Edelgard was always so eager to see Dimitri not for matters of politics but for personal reasons.

Every time he thought of Lady Edelgard leaving for Fhirdiad, suddenly he was ten years old again and screaming until his throat was raw and bleeding, struggling in vain against the restraining hold of his fathers’ men as he fought to _follow_ her because he would follow her _anywhere_ and the thought of being left _behind_ was unbearable—

Of course, he hadn’t told her such things. He’d simply nodded, and smiled, and quashed his own feelings about the matter, burying them somewhere deep where he would not have to deal with them for, hopefully, a very long time to come.

The fact that he could now hardly remember anything about that first visit told him it had been an uneventful one, not worth his fear and anxiety in the least. What he _does_ remember is Lady Edelgard becoming irritated with what she’d called his _hovering_, even if she was not engaged in any sort of official activity, and had told him to, quote, “figure out some way to enjoy yourself”.

He likes to think he’s fulfilled the terms of her order.

Not that it had been intentional, of course. He had simply happened upon Dedue in his wanderings as he tried to find some way to distract himself from the persistent itch beneath his skin that plagued him at having Lady Edelgard out of his sight in what his illogical brain insisted was enemy territory. As though she would disappear or be spirited away the moment he averted his gaze...

It had been before the garden, and so he had found him in an atrium, tending to the potted plants lining its interior with a sort of nervous energy that seemed uncharacteristic of the stoic vassal but which Hubert had later learned had been not dissimilar to his own predicament... Namely, that Dimitri had become insistent on Dedue being more independent and taking more time for his own pursuits rather than Dimitri’s comforts.

Funny how Hubert can both sympathize with Dedue for his discomfort with such an idea while also being of the opinion that had Dimitri felt differently, he would have thought less of the King for taking such a dedicated man for granted...

The duality of man, he supposes.

As they’d both been at a loss for what to do with themselves, Dedue had invited him to take tea with him in the drawing room. Despite his aversion to tea, Hubert had accepted, hoping the diversion would be enough to keep his brain from inventing increasingly unlikely and anxiety-inducing scenarios...

And things had just... Gone from there.

It amazed Hubert, and still does at times, to think that he could not remember having ever exchanged more than two words with Dedue before that coincidental encounter. Of course, during their Academy days, there were certain... _Obstacles_ to the two of them having any kind of relationship, but still. Hubert had at least had cursory conversations with most of his other classmates; even Claude, on occasion.

Not that either he or Dedue are men of many words.

During their schooling, of course, there were... _Other_ reasons why Hubert would have had little occasion to interact with Prince Dimitri’s vassal. The fact that Edelgard had still been planning to make war with the Church right up to the point where Professor Byleth had managed to... _Negotiate_ her way into a peaceful outcome that all parties were more or less happy with, even if there was a great deal of compromise involved...

He’s still rather impressed that a woman who had hardly been able to manage a smile, real _or_ fake, had managed to bring peace to a nation on the brink of war. But he’s hardly going to question it, not when it seems as though everything has worked out to near perfection. Not when Edelgard seems quite happy with the way things have turned out, even if they haven’t gone quite to plan.

Not when he, against all odds, is just as happy.

  


Dimitri’s visits to Enbarr are less frequent than the reverse, though Hubert couldn’t say why. It’s not as though his territory would be any worse off than theirs is with Ferdinand left to run the place in their absence.

Still, when he’s not left wondering whether _this_ social call thinly veiled as a diplomatic mission to give the Adrestian Emperor an excuse to trek across the continent to visit her brother will be the one that will have them coming home to a smouldering crater where the Imperial Palace used to be... He can’t say he minds.

Dedue’s place of refuge is certainly a much nicer place to spend time than his study.

Hubert has never been a man for flowers, though he has no aversion to them, either. He’s gifted Edelgard a bouquet of white carnations every year for her birthday for nigh on ten years now, after all. But he’s never had the time to dedicate to the complicated and rigorous hobby of horticulture.

He would almost say he’s _jealous_ of Dedue. To be such a dedicated man, equally as devoted as Hubert himself, and still have the energy to devote to his garden? To nurture it into something Hubert knows must be the talk of the royal court (and if it isn’t, well, it _should_ be)?

Even more than jealousy, he finds himself amazed.

This time, he finds himself quite alone in the garden. Dedue is tending to other business in Dimitri’s stead while he and Edelgard are in their meeting— for once, a genuine diplomatic matter, to Hubert’s relief—and Hubert has been left to wander.

Despite not caring much for flowers on a personal level, he finds himself drawn towards the garden. He spends more time there than anywhere else in Fhirdiad, he’s sure, but this is the first time he can remember being there without Dedue. And despite the logical part of his brain knowing that he is more than welcome, a smaller and irrational part of him still felt like something of an intruder...

He walks among the paths, all centred around and leading back to the gazebo where he and Dedue would normally play their game and sit to talk for hours... He tries to identify as many as he can despite his limited knowledge, makes his own game of it and finds that he knows more than he thought he would.

In his wanderings, he reaches what he would guess is the farthest point of the garden. There is a water feature, somewhere halfway between a fountain and an artificial pond. The flowers here are less carefully organized into well-managed rows, though he imagines that to be just as carefully planned as the rest of the garden...

Organized disorganization, ha. It seems fitting for a garden. Not that he would know much about that...

The flowers he’s looking at now grow close to the ground, very different from the massive hedges and lattices that give the rest of the garden a sense of enclosure and privacy. They’re a very particular shade of blue...

“Ah. I thought I might find you here.”

Dedue walks nearly silently for a man of his stature. It is different in his armour, of course, when like anyone wearing their weight in plate metal he clanks about noisily, but now he’s dressed in the muted dress and soft furs so common of the royal court of Faerghus. Today his clothing is more elaborate tan it is when it is of his own choosing. Formally, he is one of Dimitri’s staunchest advisors and a minister of domestic affairs; that he is not only a commoner but also a man of Duscur means his position rankles many of the older nobles, in a way that Dimitri seems deliberately pleased by. (Hubert thinks he and Edelgard have more in common than either might think. Or perhaps that’s precisely what they talk about behind closed doors, when Hubert and Dedue are banished from their attempts at service.

Strangely, he does not find himself thinking about such matters nearly as much now as he once did.)

Of course, Hubert is sure that Dedue to some degree still sees himself as Dimitri’s vassal, in heart and devotion if not in duty. Just as Hubert diligently performs the job of Imperial minister not because he cares for the position or its prestige—he would not have reduced his noble household from a margraviate to a simple county if he cared about such things—but because it is the most efficient way for him to assist Lady Edelgard.

Despite Dedue’s near silent movements, tempered no doubt by years of blending into the background at Dimitri’s side, Hubert had been aware of his presence. He has spent too many years fending off assassins for anything less.

“I thought it might be nice to finally take a look around the place while I waited for you.”

Dedue moves to stand beside him, leaning in to look over his shoulder, presumably to see what’s caught his interest. Hubert is used to being the one to _loom, _but he’s also grown used to being dwarfed by Dedue in both height and size.

Something he would be lying to say he hasn’t thought about in less... _Casual_ contexts.

“O-oh...”

Seeing what he’s been looking at, Dedue clears his throat and looks away. Embarrassment is a subtle emotion on him. Hubert has a particular way with subtlety, though...

“They’re quite a striking shade of blue,” he says, gesturing to the flowers, and finds himself enjoying the way that Dedue reddens starting from the tips of his ears downwards. “One I do believe I’ve seen somewhere before.”

“...This sort of teasing is unlike you, Hubert.”

Hubert chuckles. “Perhaps. Lady Edelgard did mention that I seemed more... _Relaxed_ than usual.”

She had quite clearly been teasing _him_ when she’d said it, but he can hardly begrudge her for it. Not when it brings him delight to see her take genuine enjoyment in such a small thing, even at his own expense.

And not when he’s absolutely deserving of it.

“Forget-Me-Nots,” he says. Because these ones he does know, though it’s taken him a moment to recall. “I take it His Majesty does not wander far into the gardens.”

“He... Has seen _most_ of them.”

“Which would be why you’ve hidden these away in a back corner.”

“Hubert...”

Though it would bring him joy to spend the rest of their time together teasing Dedue (and isn’t that a strange thing for him to think about), he simply gives his head a shake at the warning tone in his voice. He doesn’t want to take things too far, though.

They talk about Dimitri, and about Edelgard, often enough. But there are certain things they simply... Do not mention. Hubert... Understands. Better than he’s sure anyone else could.

“...I’m surprised you are so interested in those,” Dedue says, drawing him back to the present, and surprising him that the conversation hasn’t been dropped utterly in favour of an abrupt subject change. “I would think these would be more to your liking...”

He moves past Hubert and kneels by the fountain, where another breed of flower—closer to the ground even than the forget-me-nots—grows. Hubert tries to see past him, but of course Dedue blocks whatever he’s doing completely from sight...

He rises back to his feet with a flower in hand. So small, it’s dwarfed utterly, and yet handled so delicately... Hubert has seen Dedue wield an axe with enough strength to cleave a man in half, but he cannot imagine him handling a flower with anything less than utter gentleness...

Of course, when he’s done staring at Dedue’s hands, he finally notices the flower itself... In particular the extremely familiar shade of light purple...

“Oh...” He doesn’t have words, and he knows that he’s turning just as red as Dedue, though it would show so much more clearly on his pale complexion...

The flower is the exact colour of Edelgard’s eyes.

Dedue chuckles, a low rumble of a noise, and Hubert supposes he really does deserve a taste of his own medicine... But when Dedue tucks the flower into his hair just above his ear, well, neither of them have any sort of excuse for _that_.

Hubert... _Smiles_, though. And when Dedue’s hand lingers with a feather-light touch at his temple, Hubert leans into the touch until Dedue’s hand is properly cupping his face. His hand, so warm, his callouses so pleasantly rough...

He reaches up to cover Dedue’s hand with his own; the feeling is not quite right, however, and he lowers his hand to pull off his glove before returning it to its proper place. His other now ungloved hand goes to cup Dedue’s cheek in a similar fashion and, while he knows he tends to run cold (poor circulation), he finds it amusing— _cute_, even— to see a small shudder run up Dedue’s spine at the touch of his cold fingers on the warm skin of his cheek, despite the fact that he hails from the farthest northern reaches of the continent.

“It really is incredible, you know...” His voice comes out a touch huskier than he anticipated, but no matter. “That we’re here right now.”

“...Things could have gone very differently,” Dedue agrees, his voice similarly little more than a rumble.

They could have very easily ended up killing each other, or at the very least, found themselves on opposing sides of a war. Instead Hubert is standing in Dedue’s private sanctuary, sheltered not only from prying eyes but from reminders of anything existing outside of their little bubble by the reaching vines and sheltering leaves of the plants he cares for so lovingly.

There are things they don’t speak of, even in this place; things that the world outside might perhaps already assume (why has the Emperor taken no husband or wife, why has the King seen fit to bestow such power on a simple vassal) but which neither of them will address even to themselves because it is simply... Far too much. And Hubert knows that neither of them can be wholly dedicated to the other. They have both given too much of themselves away, and he would not regret a moment of it. He knows Dedue would not, either. On this, they more than understand each other; they are perhaps the only two people alive who _can._

And perhaps that is why, despite all of that, a warmth blooms in him that has little to do with the warmth of Dedue’s hand as he turns to press a kiss to his palm... Or perhaps it has _everything_ to do with it, in the end.

“Kiss me,” he says, on a whim, because he can. Because here, he does not have to be afraid of what those words might mean.

“Of course,” Dedue replies, and then he does.

And around them, the garden shields them from the world.


End file.
